


The Pocket Watch

by HolyCatsAndRabbits



Series: Dannye's Good Omens Human AUs [5]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Aziraphale is "just enough of a bastard to be worth knowing" (Good Omens), Aziraphale is a jeweler, Clever Aziraphale, Competence Kink, Crowley is his occupational enemy, Disappearances, Happy Ending, Hey I'm back with another human AU full of smut, M/M, Pining, Resolved Pining, Size Kink, Soft Crowley (Good Omens), Temptation, alternate universe- jewelry shop, but also a plot, high fluff low angst, reappearences, sexual fantasies, sooo much sex, very tight jeans
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-26
Updated: 2020-12-02
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:39:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27645601
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HolyCatsAndRabbits/pseuds/HolyCatsAndRabbits
Summary: August Fell has a problem: his jewelry shop was just broken into and the thieves took everything, including his beloved pocket watch. Anthony Crowley has a different problem: he knows exactly where the watch is, but how is he going to get it back to the man he's desperately in love with without revealing how he got it?This fic was written for the Fandom Cares auction for BLM causes, commissioned by the wonderful LadyofthedragonThe request was for M/M, human AU, low angst, fluff & smut, E rating, and a happy ending for a jeweler and his, ah, occupational enemy, which describes an ideal fic to me as well. <3 I had so much fun with this, and I hope you all like it!
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Dannye's Good Omens Human AUs [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2110836
Comments: 233
Kudos: 365
Collections: Fandom Cares, Fandom Trumps Hate 2020, Good Omens Human AUs, Top Crowley Library





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ladyofthedragon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladyofthedragon/gifts).



> Note: we are in America for this fic

**1**

**In which the pocket watch disappears**

The worst sight of that morning was not the broken glass on the sidewalk outside of the _A Z Fell, Jeweler_ shop on Park Street. It was not the flashing lights of the police cars cutting sharply into the pale morning. It was not even the empty trays on the floor that had once held hand-crafted necklaces and rings. It was the missing pocket watch.

A Z Fell— August, to his friend Crowley— was standing in the ruined shop, speaking to a police officer. August wore his usual clothes— pale trousers and a light blue collared shirt. He typically kept his pocket watch in his trouser pocket with the chain attached to his belt loop. This morning, Crowley could see August’s fingers fussing with the belt loop, a nervous habit, made so much worse by the fact that the chain of the watch was not there for him to fidget with.

It had been his father’s watch. August always kept it with him, took it home with him. Except last week, August had mentioned to Crowley that he was planning to clean and re-oil it, and he must have done that last night and left the watch in the shop to rest.

Of all nights to have a break-in.

When August was done speaking with the police officer, he turned and saw Crowley standing there. His face brightened enough to make Crowley feel rather unsteady. August was a beautiful man, in a light and fanciful kind of way, like he was more an ethereal creature than a human being. He had a rounded face that held smiles so well that it was hard to imagine him not smiling.

This morning, though, his smile faded quickly as he picked his way through the broken remnants of his shop to reach Crowley on the sidewalk. 

“I got the call around four a.m,” August said. “From the police. The alarm was triggered. But of course, the thieves were gone by the time the authorities got here. They took what they could and ran. Security video shows them in masks and gloves, they left nothing behind.” He sighed. “I knew it was only a matter of time. My shop was one of the few that haven’t been hit yet. And I have photos of what they took, you know. Insurance will cover that. It’s just—”

“Your pocket watch.”

August looked up at that, blue eyes wide, and then down at his empty pocket. “Yes. My watch.”

“I’m so sorry, angel.” And Crowley was. More than he could say. Because this wasn’t fair. Not that anyone getting burglarized was really fair, but August was different. Like many jewelers, he was an artist and a repairman. He was a small business owner, part of a little row of shops on Park Street. But August was also an _angel._ It wasn’t some random nickname.

Crowley had met August on a bright afternoon six months ago, when Crowley had strolled into his shop. August had been at the front counter with a middle-aged woman. The woman had tears in her eyes, but it wasn’t how it often was in shops, with the customer angry and shouting. She was weeping quietly, and August had handed her some tissues. 

“Hardly any work at all, dear,” the jeweler was saying. “A simple design, and very straight-forward engraving.”

“Please,” the woman said. “I can pay you.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t dream of it,” the jeweler assured her. “Not for this.”

The woman gave him a few more tear-soaked thank you’s. When she turned to leave, she saw Crowley. “He’s an _angel,”_ she said fervently, and Crowley watched her go. When he turned back, he got his first good look at August Z. Fell. 

August almost a work of art himself— delicate and yet strong, a gracefully rounded body accented with sapphire eyes and the gold gleam of a pocket watch chain at his waist.

“Oh,” said the jeweler faintly, perhaps reacting to Crowley’s intense staring.

“Um,” Crowley said, intelligently. He turned a little to point toward the door. “What did you just give away?”

The jeweler smiled a bit self-consciously. “Oh, well. Her mother was widowed a few years ago, and last week lost her wedding ring on a family trip to the lake. Quite irretrievable. Fortunately, they had pictures of the ring, and it wasn’t much more than a simple band with their names on the inside. It was such a traumatic thing for the family to lose it, I didn’t want to add money to the mix.”

Crowley was considering the idea that the rest of his life might be spent standing in this shop and staring at this man. “You _are_ an angel,” he said.

The jeweler made a scoffing sound, but looked faintly pleased. “What can I help you with?” he asked.

_Absolutely anything you could possibly think of._ “Just browsing,” Crowley said.

“Ah. Well, let me know if you need anything. I’m August Fell, and this is my shop.”

“Crowley,” said Crowley.

Over time, Crowley and August had become friends, mostly because Crowley had found excuse after excuse to spend time in the shop. He’d been careful at first— August was working, and so likely to be nice to him whether he actually liked him or not— but soon enough they’d begun seeing each other outside of the shop as well. They had lunch and went for walks, and sometimes saw a play or concert.

Of course, they weren’t dating. It may have looked to outsiders like they were dating, but they weren’t, they couldn’t, because although Crowley knew a great deal about August, August knew very little about him. And if he did know it, he would not want to date Crowley, and Crowley could never let himself forget that. 

So although he and August occasionally brushed shoulders in a hallway or knees beneath a table, they didn’t touch on purpose. And though there had been that one moment in the park where August had been standing so close, with his lips slightly parted and his eyes drifting closed, they didn’t kiss. Crowley had a well-loved scenario in his head that involved him, August, the back room of the jewelry shop, and incredibly implausible reasons that they might both be naked, but they weren’t lovers. Despite how strongly Crowley ached to touch August, to lay him down gently and worship him (starting and ending with the most perfectly rounded ass in creation), it was never going to happen. August was far, far too good to get involved with a man like Crowley.

Crowley felt that now more strongly than ever this morning, with August standing beside him looking at a disaster that had been all Crowley’s fault.

oOo

The warehouse floor that Crowley walked across an hour later was far cleaner than August’s sidewalk covered in broken glass. Crowley had left August working on the details of the police report, because Crowley had someone to see.

Bee was having a good day, Crowley could see that. They were sitting on an old couch with a laptop. The rest of the furniture in the warehouse consisted of folding chairs and a card table. Their headquarters had to be mobile in a hurry, that was the nature of the business. But it made things very strange, changing places all the time, but keeping the same furniture, the same people, the same sounds and smells. Bad coffee, cigarettes, that industrial odor that empty warehouses could never get rid of. Crowley had been working with these people for years, and yet none of their meeting places had ever seemed like home. Some part of it was always in flux, and it was unsettling.

Bee was a small, black-haired person, who didn’t smile often. But they were smiling now, a smug little grin. “Been to see your boyfriend?” they asked.

Crowley kicked a folding chair that had dared to be in his way. “I told you not to hit his shop!”

Bee laughed. “Calm down. He’ll get his insurance payout, customers will feel sorry for him. He’ll make money, we’ll make money. Spend some on him if it will help your conscience.”

“You shouldn’t have done it, Bee, it was messy. You set off the alarm, for fuck’s sake!”

Bee just kept smiling. “Then you should’ve helped us. Should’ve turned in those specs we asked you for about the cameras and security system. It’s not my fault you didn’t do your job, Crowley.”

Behind Crowley, the door to the warehouse creaked and shivered on its track and then cracked open. He turned to see Hastur and Ligur walk in. Bee looked fashionable as ever in black jeans and a red blouse. Hastur and Ligur looked like the low-down thieves they were, in dirty jeans and t-shirts.

“Did you have to smash everything in the shop?” Crowley demanded.

Of course, it just made them laugh. “Aww, is your poor angel upset?” Hastur asked.

Bee was still grinning. “Crowley, come on. You have one job. You case shops. You’re good at it, which is why you’re still here. But just because you don’t get your hands dirty with the burglaries doesn’t mean you’re better than us.”

“He’s worse than us,” Ligur remarked, shoving half a sandwich in his mouth. Crowley was not sure where the sandwich had suddenly come from, and he really didn’t want to know. “Not brave enough to steal,” Ligur said.

Crowley growled at him. “I’m the only one whose face is ever caught on camera!”

Hastur laughed. “That just means we’re smarter than you.”

Bee snorted, but the look in their eyes, cold and unsympathetic, caused Crowley a little wariness. The friendly mask was off. “If you don’t want this, Crowley, we can cut you out.”

“I can take you down too,” Crowley retorted immediately. “Mutually assured destruction.”

This claim was met by laughter from all three thieves. “That wasn’t what I meant,” Bee said. “I’m not going to send a rude note about you to the DA if you cross us. You’ll just disappear.” They waggled their empty fingers. “Like smoke.”

Crowley crossed his arms. It wouldn’t do to show weakness. He’d learned that early on. “I want the watch. August’s pocket watch. Is it with the fence already?”

Bee looked at him blankly a moment, and then their mouth twitched. “Nah. I kept it out. Figured you’d want it.”

Crowley looked at them in shock. Bee being kind? But then Hastur started laughing. “Five hundred bucks.”

Crowley rubbed a hand over his eyes, bumping up his sunglasses onto his forehead. _Of course._ “Fine. Take it out of my cut.”

“Oh, you aren’t getting a cut on this one,” Bee said, looking pleased. “You didn’t send in the specs, remember?”

_“Fine!_ Out of the next one, then.”

Hastur reached into his pocket and dug out the watch, swinging it a little on its chain. 

“Don’t you fucking drop that!” Crowley hissed. He grabbed it from Hastur’s hand, and left the warehouse with the other three still laughing.

oOo

The problem with retrieving the watch, of course, was that it was only the first step. And the second step was going to be more like jumping off a cliff. How on earth was Crowley going to get the watch back to the angel?

Crowley spent about an hour pacing through the park (the one August’s _Park Street_ was named for), circling the gravel paths, and trying out various scenarios in his head. 

Idea one: he could pawn the watch. It would no doubt be on the list the police would give to all local pawn shops, which was why the fence that worked with Crowley’s group always took the goods elsewhere. The drawback to that plan: while Crowley had several fake IDs that he could use, he would still be on the surveillance camera at the pawn shop, and even with sunglasses and a hoodie, his thin physique could be rather memorable.

Idea two: he could take the watch back to August’s shop and leave it somewhere, as if it had been overlooked. Under a counter or stuck in the cluttered back room maybe. The drawback: even if the police hadn’t done a thorough job of looking through the shop, August most definitely had. He was too methodical not to. The back room was a mess, but August knew exactly where everything was. He would notice the watch’s return and most likely come to certain conclusions about how it had gotten there.

Idea three: Crowley could mail the watch back to August. Drawback: the mail could be tracked, and anyway, Crowley didn’t want to let the watch out of his sight until it was returned. That also cut out ideas four and five (leave the watch on a park bench and call the cops to come find it; get some random kid to return it).

The final idea, of course, was to simply pull the watch from his pocket, hand it to August, admit that their friendship had started when Crowley had come into his shop to case it so that it could be burglarized, apologize profusely, and then disappear. He could even add the part where he confessed to being desperately in love with the man, because at that point, really, why the hell not? It wasn’t like Crowley could expect August to say it back. 

Crowley was a walking disaster of a person, a loser who couldn’t hold down a real job, and he really was doing no better as a criminal, being scared of his own partners. Because that was the drawback to this last plan. Bee and the group were not going to let Crowley just disappear unless they had something to do with it. If he left, if he ran, knowing all he did about their criminal operations— they’d find him.

Crowley had never intended to get into this line of work. Ten years ago, he’d been nineteen, broke, and on his own after a few life decisions that had been necessary but rash all the same. He’d been holding his own until suddenly he wasn’t, and he’d had to borrow money from some unsavory characters. When the loan came due, Crowley couldn’t pay. But somewhere in there, the unsavory folks noticed that Crowley had a sharp eye for details and cleaned up quite well if the occasion called for it. And so Crowley had worked off the debt by casing shops, jewelers in particular.

Now things were different. The job paid well. Crowley had a nice apartment and some nice things to keep there. But he was an asset to Bee, not an agent.

In the end, there was only one clear step in the return-the-watch plan: to seek out August. And so that was what Crowley did, hoping desperately that when he saw the poor man, an opportunity to return the watch would somehow miraculously present itself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heavy smut ahead in every chapter!


	2. Chapter 2

**2**

**In which the pocket watch reappears**

August Fell had been intending to have a good morning. He’d make apricot scones the night before, and cleaned his kitchen after, everything bright and shiny. In the morning he would sit at his little table with the sun coming through the half-curtains and eat a scone with jam while he drank his tea.

But as it turned out, August had gotten no breakfast at all, because at 4 a.m., the police had called.

It was nearly eleven now, and August was a mix of anxious and hungry. His stomach needed to be filled, but his mind felt far too full to think about that. 

It was strange to walk the white tiled floor of the shop and have the glass crunch beneath his feet. The overhead lights seemed dimmer without the glass counters to reflect them, and everything was pale and bland, which didn’t look right in his shop. In August’s opinion, while platinum was lovely and diamonds certainly did sparkle, the world was more beautiful in color. August loved to work with emeralds and jade, turquoise and aquamarine, bright gold, and above all, opals that could dance in the light. Now all of that color was gone.

It also hurt to know that his creations were now in someone else’s hands, someone who hadn’t asked, who hadn’t learned their stories, who saw them as money rather than art. But August could, of course, make more. He found some consolation in reminding himself that his work had been stolen, but not his talent. His pieces were, in some sense, replaceable.

What was not, was his father’s pocket watch.

August could, of course, make another watch. He knew the piece inside and out. But it was more complicated than that, just as it had been for the widow who’d lost her wedding ring. August had made a copy of the ring for her, and he knew the family was grateful, but it wasn’t ever going to be quite the same, because the groom had never touched this one. The love that the family had shared was real, as was the love that August had felt for his father, and that love did not depend on material tokens. It remained, just the same, without ring or watch. But there was something about touching an object given to you by a loved one, like it was a way to still touch  _ them, _ across the span of time and the border of loss. That was why August had not charged the family for the ring. Because he had not actually replaced it. He could not.

August finished sweeping up the glass and then there was really little else to do. He had been in touch with his insurance company, of course. Another shop owner had helped him to nail plywood over the shattered window. But there was no way August could salvage this moment, this day, no way to snap his fingers and make everything go back to the way it had been.

In fact, the only thing that might have any chance of improving his mood today would be to hear a certain someone say— 

“Angel!”

August looked up to see Crowley leaning on the wall by the open door, a smirk on his face. “Well, it’s looking better in here already,” he teased. “You’ve really cut down on the clutter, I’ll give you that.”

“You came back,” August said.

Crowley shrugged a shoulder. “Yeah, only really had one thing to do for work today, so thought I’d take the rest of the day off. You hungry?”

August was. August  _ really  _ was, and not just for food.

August had never met anyone like Anthony Crowley. It was like the man had stepped out of a dream that August might have had on a lonely night after reading some thriller novel. Crowley was absolutely gorgeous: scarlet hair, hazel eyes, a lithe, slender body and almost delicate features. He moved with a positively sinful grace, the motion of his hips inevitably drawing August’s eyes to the way Crowley filled out a very (very) tight pair of trousers. And he was without a doubt the most charming man August had ever met. Crowley was smooth and suave, lounging about in his dark glasses, giving out rakish smiles that made August feel like he was about to go up in flames.

August had never wanted anyone as fiercely as he wanted Anthony Crowley. But he had never acted on that, of course. Crowley was stylish and witty, and August was clever, perhaps, and pleasant enough, but he was not the type who attracted a man dashing enough to have come from a spy novel, not to mention handsome enough to star in a different type of book altogether.

And to be fair— Crowley was also a bit of a mystery. For example, August had never quite gotten a straight answer on what Crowley did for a living. He only knew that whatever it was, it paid well and didn’t seem to have set hours. He knew that Crowley appeared to be unattached romantically, but he didn’t know if he had family or other friends or who these people might be. Crowley seemed to appear and disappear whenever he wished, dodging questions while at the same time making August feel like he was the center of the universe, with all of Crowley’s attention focused on him. It was part of his charm, August knew that. No doubt Crowley made everyone feel that way. He had to assume it wasn’t special to him, although he certainly wished that it would be.

The one thing August did know was that in Crowley’s presence, he felt safe. Crowley always came across as very capable— of many things, some of which August could only guess at— but August was confident that Crowley’s secret life did not consist of murdering or torturing or anything truly evil. Perhaps, August had admitted to himself, Crowley was the type of person who thought that certain of society’s laws were not entirely worth following, but August instinctively trusted in what kind of person Crowley was, and he’d never seen evidence to convince him that he shouldn’t. 

“Lunch,” August said, with a smile. “Let’s get lunch.”

oOo

Once at the restaurant, August’s mood improved considerably. The cafe was one he and Crowley visited often, and finding it unchanged and full of its usual delicious aromas (not to mention being here with Crowley once again) went a long way toward convincing August that the world would continue to spin on despite what had happened to him.

Crowley also seemed happier once August had calmed a bit. He insisted on paying for lunch, as he usually did, and made sure that August ordered a slice of pie. It was peach today, and that reminded August that he had scones waiting for him at home. It crossed his mind briefly to invite Crowley back to his home to sample the scones— and perhaps other things— but he pushed that thought away, as always. He did not need another disappointment today.

Crowley, of course, was operating in the real world. “Get everything sorted with insurance, then?” he asked.

“Oh,” August said. “Yes, they wanted photos, and a list of things missing. I’ve got some jewelry stock already made at home and the window will be fixed Wednesday. I’ll probably open that afternoon for a couple of hours. Fortunately, the customer pieces I was working on were in the safe under the floor of the office, so I can still finish those and get them back where they belong.”

Crowley looked quite relieved to hear this. That reminded August, of course, that Crowley had been the one to counsel August about using an extra, hidden safe for things like customer pieces. He only wished he’d thought to put his watch in there. Or that he’d taken it home. Oh, of all the nights for a break-in— 

August was startled to feel Crowley’s hand covering his, which was a very unusual occurrence. He looked up to see Crowley wearing a saddened expression. “I’m so sorry,” Crowley said quietly. “You didn’t deserve this.”

“No one does,” August said, but it was apparently the wrong thing to say, because it made Crowley pull his hand back and look away.

August frowned and took another bite of pie. He made a little noise of pleasure, and as sometimes happened, he caught a bit of a shiver in Crowley’s shoulders, and a jumping of his fingers against the tabletop, which made August wonder if he was not the only one who imagined quite heated things involving the two of them.

But if Crowley wanted to make a move, he would, August knew this. Crowley was a deliberate and competent person. If there were something he wanted, clearly, he would just go for it. And he never had. So Crowley most likely had exactly what he wanted already: August as a friend. And August valued that friendship so much that he was loathe to risk it by asking for something Crowley could not give.

“So what’ve you got on for the rest of the day?” Crowley asked.

August almost laughed and at the same almost cried. “Not a thing, my dear. How odd that is. An unplanned vacation. I mean, there are things I  _ should _ do—”

“No,” Crowley said. “No. You need to take the rest of the day off, angel.”

August smiled at him. “Taking the day together then, are we?”

A smile lifted the corner of Crowley’s lovely mouth, making him look delightfully charming. “Suppose we are. What shall we do?”

There was no way that August was not going to blush at that question, so he tried to hide it by looking down at the last few bites of pie. “Um— perhaps a walk in the park?” he asked. When he finally glanced up, Crowley was looking very pleased. Which brought the embarrassing blush back, August was sure of it.

As they left the cafe, Crowley’s hand hovered near August’s back, ushering him through the door. The day was warm, and Crowley removed his jacket, draping it over one arm. They walked side by side in the park, though, and that was best, because it was easier that way for August to avoid watching Crowley’s hips swing about in those tight jeans, especially because they’d be so much easier to focus on now with Crowley’s jacket gone.

Well. August was not completely immune to temptation. He allowed himself one look, while Crowley’s head was turned. And it nearly stopped him in his tracks. The jeans were so tight, so very tight, that August would have been terribly surprised to learn that the pockets were even real. But they must have been, because there, high on Crowley’s thigh, was a distinctive, very familiar round shape.

August looked away quickly. He concentrated on answering Crowley’s questions about some inane subject— ducks, was it? But August knew what he had seen. It was his pocket watch. It was in the wrong pocket. But it was with him all the same.

August stumbled a little. Crowley stopped walking, touching his hand briefly to August’s arm. “Angel? Are you all right?”

“I’m— I think—”

Crowley looked concerned. “Listen, I live five minutes from here. We can walk, I won’t even make you ride in the Bentley.”

“Oh. That’s quite a sacrifice on your part, dear.”

Crowley shrugged. “Well, I think you’ve had enough of a scare today, you don’t need my driving to add to it.”

“I think you drive very well,” August said, magnanimously. “You have a real talent for it.”

Crowley was looking at him with great surprise on his face.

“And also it scares me to death,” August acknowledged.

This got him the handsome smirk. “I know. Come on.” And this time Crowley actually put a hand on the small of August’s back to usher him along.

Crowley lived in a gorgeous apartment, minimally furnished with expensive things. August was not surprised, by the style or the expense. He sat on a rather uncomfortable black couch while Crowley made tea, and tried to get his thoughts in order.

So Crowley was a thief. A jewel thief, to be precise. It wasn’t really that much of a shock. August had been fairly sure that Crowley was up to something illicit, and they had met in August’s shop, after all.

But this morning, on seeing the damage, Crowley had looked surprised and dismayed. He seemed quite upset about August having been a victim. So it didn’t seem that Crowley himself was the one who’d broken in. But, of course, he had the watch, so obviously he worked with whoever had.

But why did he have the watch now? What was he planning to do with it? Did August honestly believe that he was going to give it back? Is that why he felt so strangely relieved to see that Crowley had it?

And for fuck’s sake, how the hell was this somehow such an incredible turn-on? August wanted to put his hand in that pocket, retrieve his watch, and then peel the trousers right off of Crowley’s legs and give him a proper thank-you for returning it. Even though he had been involved in stealing it. And then maybe Crowley would put his— 

Crowley interrupted August’s thoughts, coming back with two cups of tea, fortunately not seeming to see the way August jumped at the sound of his footsteps. 

Crowley didn’t sit on the couch with August, but across from him in a black chair. August sipped his tea and tried to think of something to say that wasn’t  _ Is that my watch in your pocket or are you just happy to see me? _

“So,” Crowley said. “Other than that, how are things going for you?”

August coughed. “Oh— just splendidly, dear. How about you? How’s— how’s work?”

Crowley didn’t falter at the question, of course. “Same as usual,” he said smoothly. “You know how it is.” August nodded, and Crowley smiled at him. “We should do something to take your mind off all this. What sounds good?”

August took a very quick drink of tea so that he did not have to answer that.

“Could watch a movie,” Crowley suggested. He nodded in the direction of the large flat-screen TV that had no doubt been paid for, August reminded himself firmly, by committing burglaries.

“Sure,” August managed to say. 

They picked something to watch, but August wasn't sure what, because Crowley now came to sit beside him on the couch, although a respectable distance apart,  _ and _ he removed his sunglasses, and so August was quite occupied in giving himself a lecture entitled  _ Fucking a Thief is Not a Proper Response to Being Burglarized. _

About twenty minutes into the movie, Crowley turned to August and sighed. “It’s not helping, is it?”

That was when August realized he’d been staring at the wall instead of the television. “Oh. Sorry. Just— preoccupied.”

Crowley looked very sad then. The lights of the movie played over his face, alternately dark and bright. “Angel, I’m so sorry. You didn’t deserve what happened—”

August shook his head. “It’s all right.”

“It is in no way all right.”

“Well, you’re very kind to try to distract me.”

Crowley scoffed. “Kind is the last thing I am.”

August frowned at him. “What is all this been, then? Lunch and a movie?”

“It’s not—” Crowley’s features hardened, and he turned his face away.

August touched him. He couldn’t help it, couldn’t keep his hands away, not today, not now. He cupped his hand over Crowley’s cheek and slowly turned him back. Crowley looked surprised and suspicious, and, as always, so terribly handsome.

“Well,” August breathed. “I am grateful.”

Crowley’s mouth parted as if he was going to say something, but no sound came out. It didn’t matter, August was completely fixated on his mouth anyway. Slowly, he leaned forward and pressed his lips against Crowley’s.

For a moment, it was perfection. Crowley gasped a little, but he didn’t pull away. Instead, he gripped August’s arms, and after just a few heartbeats, dragged him across the space between them until they were touching from thigh to shoulder. Crowley groaned into the kiss and slipped his tongue into August’s mouth, and August welcomed it. He caught Crowley at the back of the neck to hold him where he needed. Crowley gasped again and then August found himself in Crowley’s lap, his legs sliding on either side of Crowley’s hips.

But Crowley pulled back suddenly. He stared at August with wild, almost fearful eyes. And then he stood up, moving away, letting August fall back onto the couch alone.

“Can’t,” Crowley whispered. “Can’t. I can’t. I’m sorry.”

August had never been so desperately aroused in his life, and perhaps that was the reason for what he said next. “Well, would you feel better if you gave me my watch back first?”

Crowley stilled completely, possibly not even breathing.

August groaned in dismay. He pointed a reluctant hand at Crowley’s thigh. “It’s just— the pocket— I can see.”

_ “Fuck!”  _ Crowley pressed his hands to his eyes. “Right, of course you can. Of course I’d fuck this up. Fuck. Angel, I’m—” He looked down at August on the couch, seeming completely heartbroken. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s all right—”

“It is not  _ all right!” _

August frowned. “But you’ve brought it back to me, haven’t you?”

Crowley looked at him a moment more, and then he dug his hand into his pocket and pulled out the watch. He stepped just close enough to carefully put the watch into August’s hand. It had been warmed with the heat of Crowley’s body, and August folded his fingers over it. 

“I’ll take you home,” Crowley said quietly. “And— and you can call the police, of course.”

“I won’t.”

Crowley gave him a very confused look. “Angel—” He shook his head.  _ “August—” _

“Look, this— what we’ve been—” August started over. “We’re friends. Of course we are. And now I’ve kissed you. But I do understand if you don’t feel anything— well, I’m sure I’m hardly your type.”

Now Crowley looked completely bewildered.  _ “What?” _

August cleared his throat and looked around for his tea cup. Happily, he found it, and he took a drink of cold tea. Crowley just stared at him.

“Well,” said August, “you’re so very dashing, and I’m— ah. Me. But if— if you were interested, then—”

_ “Interested?”  _ Crowley rubbed his hands over his eyes again. “I’ve cased every shop that got broken into. You know that, right? I cased yours too. That’s not  _ dashing,  _ it’s criminal activity.”

“Well, that’s—” August took another drink. “It’s really rather thrilling, I think.”

“Thrilling.”

August waved a hand at him. “Well, you know. I mean, look at you. You’re every inch the— the gentleman thief. Charming and bold and brave—”

Crowley was looking bewildered again. “I’m not brave.”

“Of course you are. You have to be. You don’t play by the rules. Not the law, and not your— your associates’ rules either, I imagine. Were you supposed to give me my watch back?”

Crowley made some sort of ambiguous vocal noise. “I worked it out.” 

August smiled. “Well, yes, that’s what I mean. Because the watch is different. The shop, well— I mean, I don’t appreciate the break-in, but it’s just stuff, really. And you weren’t involved in that, I could see. But the watch— you knew that I was heartbroken. And so you brought it back to me. That’s, well— you’ve definitely charmed me. Ever since I’ve known you, to tell the truth.”

Crowley’s face fell. “Angel, that— that wasn’t what I was doing. I mean, going to theaters and restaurants, I— I wasn’t trying to play you.”

August nodded. “You wanted to spend time with me.”

“Yeah. Course I do.”

“Well— we could still do that. If you want.”

Crowley stared at August for so long that August thought perhaps he’d broken him. “Or— or not,” August said finally. “I mean, we don’t have to—”

“I want to.”

“Well, that’s good, because  _ I _ want  _ you _ so much I can’t think.”

After a few seconds of shocked silence on both their parts, August cleared his throat and took a drink from Crowley’s abandoned tea cup, since his own was now empty. Crowley just did more staring, and this time his cheeks had flushed quite red.

“Always did want you,” August admitted eventually, since Crowley seemed to be broken again. “You’d think this would put me off.”

“You’d think,” Crowley squeaked out.

“But, um— well.” August cleared his throat. “It very much does not.”

“No?”

“No.”

“Ah.” Crowley ran a hand through his hair, mussing it terribly, still looking perplexed. “Well, then. I could—” He gestured toward August’s lap. “Owe you one, I think. For the shop.”

“Oh.” August felt himself flush. “You don’t have to—”

“Angel,  _ please.” _ Crowley’s voice broke, and August looked at him in surprise. This wasn’t charm or grace now, it was Crowley, devoid of any pretense, being completely honest, completely— desperate.

“You want me, too,” August whispered.

Crowley ran a hand through his hair again, pulling at it. “I’ve thought about you day and night for the last six months. Sat there in the cafe with you, thinking about what you’d taste like after eating strawberry pie. Couldn’t go for a walk without wanting to just  _ hold your hand—” _ He shook his head. “If you want me, angel, even just the once— I am yours entirely.”

“I want you,” August said, quite firmly, and then Crowley had sunk to his knees in front of him. August gasped as Crowley pushed his knees apart, sliding in closer, pulling at the zipper of his trousers until he’d freed August’s erection. 

August had never been so hard in all his life. He’d been aroused since they’d walked into Crowley’s apartment, and fully hard since Crowley had sat down beside him on the couch. When Crowley had pulled him into his lap, August had been worried he’d come in trousers, and now he was nearly there again, just from seeing this incredibly gorgeous man look at him with hunger.

A bead of precome— not the first— ran down the side of August’s prick, and Crowley groaned as he leaned in to lick it up. It was just the tip of his tongue against August’s flesh, but August cried out in near-desperation.

Crowley met his eyes with an awed look. “Are you that close?”

August nodded. “Sorry, I—”

_ “Angel.  _ Don’t be sorry. Fuck.” Crowley spread August’s legs as far as his trousers would allow. “Just let me take care of you.” 

Crowley pressed a closed-mouth kiss to the side of August’s cock, and then another, farther down. He must have understood that August would likely come as soon as Crowley took him in his mouth, and so he did what he could without pushing him too far. Little kisses and licks, puffs of breath against the tip of him. August clutched at the cushions of the uncomfortable couch and moaned with a delicious frustration. Crowley kissed along what he could reach of August’s thighs, running his fingernails in smooth circles until August’s legs were shaking.

“All right,” Crowley said, the words spoken against August’s cock. He looked up. “Come in my mouth, okay? You can. I’ll make it good for you, angel.”

August could only nod and then Crowley leaned forward and sheathed August’s aching prick in slick, wet heat.

“Oh, god!” August cried, and his hips rose off of the couch. Crowley didn’t try to hold him down, letting August buck up into his mouth and push his cock into his throat. After a few desperate seconds, Crowley surrounded August’s cock with a gentle but quite overwhelming burst of suction, and August immediately came, shouting, emptying down Crowley’s throat in one of the most intense orgasms he’d ever had. Crowley kept sucking as August’s hips worked, until he’d taken in every drop. Then August fell back against the couch cushions, and Crowley pulled off of him.

Crowley’s face was flushed, his eyes bright. “Wow,” he said.

August was trying to catch his breath. They were both fully clothed except for August’s half-softened cock framed by the opening of his trousers. That would not do. August looked up at the (very accurately-described) dashing, charming thief with just as much desire as he’d had before he’d been quite explosively sucked off.

“Crowley,” he said. “Fuck me. Please.”

They started there in the living room. Crowley hauled August to his feet and pushed him up against the wall, his tongue in August’s mouth so that August could taste himself there. Crowley growled low in his throat as he divested August of his clothes. His hands were everywhere, gentle but greedy, sweet but desperate. “Wanted you so much,” he gasped, between soft kisses to August’s neck. “Never,  _ never  _ thought I’d actually get to touch you.” His mouth found August’s again and the depth of the kiss made August’s head swim. Crowley’s touches were hurried, but he took the time to kiss thoroughly, almost in reverence. 

August was eagerly exploring as well, his fingers learning the curves of Crowley’s body as he tore his clothes off, the taut chest with smooth muscles, the long sleek stretch of his back, the pert ass, the rather larger than expected cock that stood proudly against Crowley’s stomach.

August pulled back just to look at him, and though Crowley protested the loss of his mouth, August was really too occupied to notice. “How the hell did you fit that into those pants?” he demanded.

“Around you?” Crowley asked. “Uncomfortably.”

August looked down at himself, just briefly, seeing his softer, paler body against the lithe and utterly gorgeous figure of Crowley. Crowley didn’t seem to notice his surprise. He leaned in again, crowding August against the wall, his hands finding August’s far more ample ass and clutching it. August groaned and Crowley mouthed at his neck. 

“How are you this perfect?” Crowley gasped. He kissed August’s mouth again, thoroughly as ever, and then pulled back enough to meet August’s eyes. “Will you really let me fuck you? Fuck, the amount of time I’ve spent thinking about your ass—” He broke off, flushing. “Sorry, that’s— I shouldn’t—”

“Can’t possibly be more than the time I’ve spent thinking about you inside me,” August said. “But I didn’t think you’d want to—” 

Crowley stared at him. “Are you serious? Turn— fuck, turn around, angel.”

August did, completely naked, leaning his body against the wall, blushing horribly but still presenting himself to the object of his own fantasies. This had never been part of them, though. August hadn’t even thought to hope that Crowley might run appreciative hands over the substantial swell of his ass, taking the time to explore and savor, to murmur praises, before stepping close enough to grind his cock against August’s skin, cursing as he slipped into the heat between August’s cheeks. 

Crowley pulled back suddenly with a moan. “Shit. I’m going to come just from this. That’s how gorgeous you are.” He grasped August’s hand and tugged him away from the wall and into a hallway.

Crowley’s bedroom was at the end of the hall, and it was large and luxurious, with dark colors and a frankly enormous bed. Crowley pulled lube from a drawer, and August watched as Crowley spread the slickness over his clearly aching cock.

“I really had no idea you were that big,” August said in an impressed tone.

Crowley stilled. “Too big? Because we don’t have to—”

“No, no,” August assured him. “Just— would have been an even better fantasy if I’d known.”

Crowley smiled in a self-conscious way. “What did you imagine, angel?”

August sat down on the bed as Crowley came closer, scooting back to make him room. “Everything,” he confessed, groaning as Crowley slicked a lubed hand up and down August’s rehardened cock. He lay back on the bed, spreading his legs as Crowley’s fingers slipped down to circle at his entrance. “Mostly just you—  _ oh—  _ having your way with me. Consensually, but—”

“Taking what I wanted? I can do that.” Crowley said, slipping a finger gently inside of August.

“But what did you imagine?” August gasped. “This should be what you want too.”

Crowley gave him a little smile, sinking his finger deeper. August canted his hips up, his arousal climbing ever higher with the feeling of Crowley inside of him. “You,” Crowley said. “You in my lap in the back room, you bent over the jewelry counter, on your hands and knees here in my bed.” He groaned, sliding a second finger in, very gently. “Sorry, angel, but you really do have the most delicious ass I’ve ever seen.”

August’s hips were working against Crowley’s fingers now. “Please, more,” he begged, and Crowley gave it to him, fucking him harder, three fingers in now. When they curled against August’s prostate, August cried out. The fingers scissored, stretching him, but August knew it would still be a tight fit around Crowley’s cock.

“You like this?” Crowley asked, not teasing, serious. “This is what you want? You want me inside you?”

“Yes, please,” August begged. 

“God, you’re built for it,” Crowley breathed, as he pulled his fingers out.

August didn’t wait to be told this time, he turned over, spreading his legs, lifting his ass. Crowley groaned, sounding wrecked already. “Shit, I need a minute, angel. Want to give you a good ride, but—” 

“It’s okay,” August said, hiding a smile against the coverlet.

Crowley spent another moment with his hands on August’s ass, running gently over the skin, squeezing and molding. Then August felt the bed shift as Crowley came up to his knees. He spread August’s cheeks apart and circled the entrance with a finger again. “Okay,” Crowley breathed. “We’ll go slow, I don’t want to hurt you.” August felt more lube being smeared over his skin, and then there was the blunt head of Crowley’s cock pressing in.

It burned, but in a good way. August pressed back, moaning loudly, and Crowley gave a desperate-sounding laugh. “Fuck, angel. Have mercy.”

August bit his lip as Crowley pressed ever forward, hot and hard and so heavy. 

“Am I hurting you?” Crowley asked.

“No, no, it’s okay. Are you—”

“Almost.” There was another bit of sliding, and then August felt Crowley’s hips touch his ass. Crowley groaned. “Fuck, you’re so tight. You—” Crowley shifted slightly and August felt him slide in just a little more, coming flush against him. “That’s all of me. God, I knew you could take it.”

“Crowley,  _ please.” _

August felt Crowley’s hands grasp his hips, and then Crowley pulled out a little and pressed himself back in. 

“More, please, Crowley.”

August got it, Crowley pulling out slowly, a little more each time, and then thrusting back in with a snap of his hips. It was a mind-numbing pleasure, the constant slide of Crowley’s cock, taking so long to slide out, and filling August so completely as he pushed back in. And he wasn’t just long, he was thick, so every movement ground against August’s prostate. 

August was going to come, he could feel it, being pushed helplessly toward orgasm, but he still wanted more. “Harder, Crowley, please.”

“Angel— If I do, I’ll come.”

“Then come. Take me hard, please, and then fill me up—”

Crowley gave a helpless gasp, his hips speeding up. “Fuck. Tell me you’re close, because I’m—”

“Yes, I’m close. Fuck me, Crowley, just fuck me—”

It was rough in its last moments, the hard pounding that August had fantasized about. Crowley’s cock split him open on every thrust. August braced himself on Crowley’s headboard and took it, allowing Crowley to chase his pleasure, listening to him curse and shout and then suddenly feeling the sudden hot rush of come inside of him. It was enough to push August over the edge, his cock spurting all over Crowley’s bed. 

Crowley didn’t let up, his hips continuing to hammer at August’s ass as he came and seemed to keep coming. “Fuck,” he gasped, “angel,  _ yes,  _ god, oh fuck!” Finally, he collapsed over August, panting hard.

Crowley shifted slightly and then gingerly began to pull out. August whined a bit, and Crowley ran a soothing hand over his back. “Did I hurt you?” he asked, his voice low.

August shook his head, collapsing onto the bed as Crowley moved away. “No. I mean, I’ll be sore for a week, I think, but—” He scooted across the bed, curling against Crowley, his head on Crowley’s chest. Crowley stilled for a few seconds, as if in surprise, and then his arms came down around August and pulled him close. “You didn’t hurt me,” August said.

Crowley ran a soothing hand over August’s arm. “At all?”

August knew he didn’t just mean the sex. “No.”

Crowley made a noise that sounded skeptical, but August was content to just let himself drift toward sleep in Crowley’s arms.


	3. Chapter 3

**3**

**In which the ring disappears**

It was a surreal evening for Crowley. He and August spent it in Crowley’s bedroom, while the treasured pocket watch passed the night abandoned on the couch. Crowley walked by it when he went to pay for the pizza they’d ordered, then again later with a bottle of wine, and other than that, the watch lay quietly on its own, while Crowley did his best to make up for its theft— in bed.

In all of Crowley’s planning about the watch, he had not considered this outcome: August finding the watch in Crowley’s pocket, being _grateful_ to have it returned, and then going willingly, eagerly, into Crowley’s arms, and for some incomprehensible reason calling him brave, dashing, and charming.

August was delusional. But Crowley was in love. That was clear to him now, had been clear the moment August kissed him and Crowley had felt his whole body light up. Surely August would come to his senses at some point, but until he did, Crowley was rather helpless to do anything except play into August’s fantasy, especially seeing as how it matched up so neatly with Crowley’s fantasies. 

After the makeshift dinner, Crowley sucked August off again. August held off coming a little longer this time, and Crowley was able to give him a better show. He hummed and moaned around his cock, slipped two fingers into his delicious ass and rubbed against his prostate until August shot off in his mouth with a sob.

Afterwards, August pulled Crowley into his arms and wrapped his legs around Crowley’s waist, and then Crowley was inside of him again. 

The feeling of being surrounded by the tight heat of August’s body was completely overwhelming. August was smooth and wet inside and so softly cushioned against Crowley’s eager hips. August clearly had no idea how perfect he was. Crowley tried to show him, kissing his soft skin, mapping every curve with fingertips, murmuring praise into each rise and valley of him. Kissing him slowly, taking time to taste and savor. Crowley kept his movements gentler this time, drinking in the filthy moans that August gave out, fighting off his own orgasm to give August the slow, thorough fucking he deserved. 

When August started to tremble, Crowley fisted August’s cock, slick with precome, and brought him back over the edge. Watching August come beneath him, because of him, was enough to knock Crowley into a mind-blowing orgasm deep inside of August’s body.

August was delusional, and Crowley was right there with him. 

oOo

Over the next week, Crowley chased joy like he’d never found before, stunned to be offered August’s company, his attention, his favors, day after day. But apparently Crowley had not quite grasped _how_ far off his rocker August was, because he was very surprised when the jeweler said, “I need you to help me steal something.”

They’d just finished a round of sex in Crowley’s apartment, and Crowley was carding his fingers through August’s pale curls and pressing kisses to his temple. The day was rather cold, and so he’d pulled up the sheet and then settled a blanket over August as he lay curled against Crowley’s chest. 

Crowley thought the request was a joke. He thought it was perhaps a sex joke, and he was mentally going through a list of body parts that one might consider stealable, until August said, “Five years ago, another jeweler, Gabriel Messenger, stole a ring from a friend of mine. I know because I saw the case for it in his shop. I was just thinking that it would be awfully nice to be able to return it.”

Crowley’s hands stopped moving. “You’re serious.”

August twisted a little in his arms so that he could look up at him. “I am.”

“That’s, ah— that’s what they have the police for, angel.”

August frowned. “Oh, they’ll never find it. I’m not sure how they’d ever get a warrant, there’s no evidence. I only saw the case, not the ring. But that’s where you would come in, my dear. With your help, I think I could manage it.”

Crowley felt himself grow cold. “Is that what this is, then?”

August looked confused. “What _what_ is?”

“This—” Crowley waved a hand at the two of them. “You, me. You just want my help?” 

August’s eyes grew wide. “What? No, of course not.”

Crowley sat up, pulling away from August. “And if I don’t help you? Will you turn me in?”

“Goodness,” August whispered. “You make me sound like a _femme fatale.”_ He looked rather delighted by the idea. But he shook his head. “I won’t turn you in, dear. I’ll just break into Gabriel’s shop myself. I mean, if you can do it, I can do it. I was hoping you might give me pointers, though.”

“I—” Crowley stared at him. “I don’t do the break-ins. I just case the shops beforehand.”

“But don’t you have any of the tech they use on the security systems and safes?”

Crowley shook his head.

August thought a moment. “Well— in that case, I might have a Plan B.”

oOo

Crowley spent the week after that revising his opinion of August’s mental state, finally deciding that maybe August wasn’t so much delusional as he was simply a bastard at heart.

Crowley had assumed, quite naturally, that someone who was called _angel_ by grateful customers would not be interested in crossing the line between legal and criminal; that a shopkeeper would naturally side with other shopkeepers when the question of burglary came up. 

As it turned out, August sided with himself, and seemed quite happy to forge his own path that crossed any line he cared to cross. Crowley found he respected him greatly for this. August would have been a good role model for Crowley in his youth. Someone content to follow no moral compass but his own. Someone who dared to _have_ a moral compass of his own.

And now it was time for August’s Plan B.

“All right,” August said, as they stood on the sidewalk about a block away from the _Gabriel Messenger, Fine Jewelry_ shop. “I’ll go chat up Gabriel and you can wander by in about ten minutes.”

Crowley nodded and watched him go, in no small measure because he wanted to check out his ass, an activity which was never going to get stale, but also to marvel at what confidence there was in August. It was very flattering to imagine that August was patterning himself after his (skewed) impression of Crowley— a gentleman thief, bold and brave.

It was lunchtime on a Tuesday, and the shop was quite busy. Gabriel’s place was on a street that contained several quick-service restaurants, and so he caught a good deal of the lunch crowd on their break. Gabriel was a tall man who used his height in a haughty way, taking pleasure from towering over most of the world. Crowley knew him by sight: he’d cased this shop two years ago and the break-in had swiftly followed. It had been an easy job. Gabriel’s works were not particularly creative, and so the fence had encountered no trouble in selling them off without raising suspicions. The group was going to have a lot more difficulty with August’s unique jewelry, Crowley was sure.

Crowley felt a little better about having enabled the break-in of this shop now that he knew that Gabriel himself was also a thief. The ring in question was a custom piece in Black Hills gold, with delicate pink and green leaves surrounding a turquoise stone. It wasn’t a tremendously expensive ring, but like many pieces of jewelry (for example, a certain pocket watch), its history was what made it valuable to its owner.

August had an old friend from school whose name was Michael. They were a business lawyer for Black Hills jewelers who sold their wares online. Michael had met Gabriel by chance on a visit to August, and the two of them had hit it off. There had briefly been an engagement, and that was where the ring had come in. It was Michael’s father’s.

Scarcely a week after Michael had given Gabriel the ring, Michael had come to their senses (as August put it, never having been a huge fan of Gabriel Messenger himself) and broken the engagement. They had demanded their father’s ring back, and at first, Gabriel had agreed. He and Michael had met for lunch at a cafe, and Gabriel had dutifully returned the ring. When Michael got home later, though, the ring was not in their bag. They’d confronted Gabriel, who had denied taking it back. No trace of the ring was found at the cafe or anywhere else.

August had been quite certain that Gabriel had stolen the ring, and had done a little snooping in Gabriel’s shop. He’d spotted the case to the ring in the back room, and had confronted Gabriel about it. But the case had been empty, and Gabriel had pointed out (rightly) that it was a nondescript ring box that he could have gotten anywhere. August had not been mollified, but he’d been out of options— save one: to steal the ring back. To that end, August had renewed his friendly relationship with Gabriel, hoping that an opportunity for the theft would present itself. And now, apparently, it had.

Crowley strolled into the shop, glancing at a few displays as he went past. There were two assistants, and they were both busy showing pieces to other customers. One of the assistants made eye contact with Crowley, and he gave her a nod before letting his gaze fall on something in one of the glass counters. He did not pay any attention to August, who was by the register, deep into conversation with Gabriel.

There was one large problem with August’s plan, though, which was that burglarizing a shop and robbing it were two very different things. The former was done in the middle of the night, silently (assuming the team used the information Crowley brought them and disabled the alarms) and swiftly, with no one the wiser until morning. The latter was a crime committed in person, in daylight, with witnesses and a much less controlled environment. But without the tech needed to pull off a burglary, robbery was their only choice.

However, there were also two advantages to the robbery-instead-of-burglary approach. The first was the safe. At night, naturally, the safe in a jewelry store was locked. During the day, the safe tended to be open from time to time as the workers attempted to sell its contents. And August was quite sure that Michael’s ring would be kept there with Gabriel’s other treasures, where he could constantly see it and gloat over it. (Crowley had wondered aloud if perhaps the reason that Gabriel stole the ring back was not cruelty but his own heartbreak, but August had pointed out that either way, the ring did not belong to him, which was true.)

Crowley could now see through the door to the backroom and note that the safe was open. But its door was only slightly ajar, so he couldn’t see any contents. He continued to browse idly, and in time, one of the assistants was free to come over and help him.

The second advantage of the robbery plan was that August, as a jeweler, had been well-schooled on how theft was likely to be attempted in an open jewelry shop, and he’d been able to teach Crowley a method or two.

The case Crowley was looking at contained bracelets, and he asked about a couple of them. The assistant obligingly removed the tray and set it on top of the counter.

Crowley picked out one set with red stones, one of the only pieces with any color to them. 

“Garnets,” said the assistant. 

Crowley peered at the bracelet. “Is that like rubies?”

The assistant smiled and said tactfully, “They are a more economical option than rubies.”

“Ah.” Crowley laughed, but it was a sort of strangled sound, ending in a cough. “I like the red though. I mean, I think my girlfriend would like it. Do you have other garnet stuff?”

The assistant put the tray back and reached for another, this one full of rings. “Garnet is a popular choice for sweetheart rings,” she said, “but of course, the rings can signify anything you’d like. Are you at a stage where a ring might make a good gift?”

Crowley gave her a grin. “Maybe.” He broke off coughing again.

“Are you all right?” the assistant asked.

“Yeah, yeah.” Crowley waved her off. “Just— been coughing today. My chest kind of hurts. And my arm.” He took an unsteady step backwards and caught himself on a counter.

“Sir?” the woman leaned closer to him. “Do you need help?”

Crowley was breathing in shorter gasps now. “No, I’m fine, just—” He wavered back forwards this time and his hand hit the tray of rings, sweeping it off of the counter. The rings landed on the floor with a crash, bouncing everywhere.

“Oh, shit!” Crowley cried. “I’m so sorry—”

There was suddenly a flurry of activity in the shop. The other customers backed off while Gabriel and the assistants rushed over and hunted down rings on the floor. 

“Stay where you are!” Gabriel instructed Crowley, who had sagged against a wall, and Crowley put his hands up in acquiescence.

“But he needs an ambulance!” cried another customer, a woman in a blue blouse. She looked at Crowley. “Do you need an ambulance?”

Crowley waved her off. “No, no, I’m fine.”

On the counter, the tray had been replaced and rings were being fitted into it. When they were finished, two spots remained conspicuously empty.

Crowley protested before he was even accused. “I don’t have anything, I swear.”

Gabriel advanced on him. “Would you mind emptying your pockets, sir?”

“He needs medical attention!” the woman in the blue blouse objected. 

“I’m fine,” Crowley insisted, turning out his pockets. “Look, nothing. And I don’t have a bag—”

One of the assistants was still on the floor, looking into every corner. “Not here,” she called.

“Can I go?” Crowley demanded.

Gabriel crossed his arms. “Not until I find my rings! And I’m calling the police.”

Another voice caught everyone’s attention. “I have them,” said August, calmly.

Gabriel turned, and you could see him pale to realize August was walking out of the back room. August’s hand was extended and two garnet rings rested there. “They rolled all the way into—”

August was cut off by Gabriel pushing past him, heading toward the safe. He ducked behind the door and started rustling through some things. Meanwhile, August returned the rings to the tray, twisting them so that they sat neatly in their places. The assistant put them back into the locked counter with clear relief.

August turned toward the back room, raising his eyebrows. “Everything all right?” he called. “I was back there the whole time. No one else came in.”

Gabriel emerged from behind the safe, looking irritated, but also somewhat relieved. “Thanks,” he said tightly.

Crowley took that as his cue to leave. “Sorry,” he mumbled again, and no one stopped him as he went out onto the street. 

oOo

August found Crowley a half hour later at their usual cafe. He slid into a seat opposite Crowley and glanced up at the chalkboard over the register.

“Chocolate silk pie today,” Crowley said.

August smiled, just slightly, but his blue eyes were positively twinkling. “Sounds about right for a celebration,” he said.

“Are we celebrating?” Crowley asked.

August laid his hand on the table with his fist closed. When he opened his fingers, there was a gold and turquoise ring in his palm.

“Gabriel did have it,” Crowley said.

August tucked the ring back into his pocket. “He thinks he still does. But now he’s got a copy, and I can give the real thing to Michael.” He beamed at Crowley. “I can’t thank you enough, my dear.”

“It was your plan,” Crowley pointed out. 

“But you had the charisma to pull it off.”

Crowley snorted. “Charisma.”

August shrugged, looking very pleased with the both of them. 

oOo

Over time, Crowley just sort of fell into helping August with the shop. The glass had long since been replaced and August had new pieces to arrange on trays. It felt so strange to Crowley to be working in a jewelry shop, but on what could be seen as _the other side._ He was not casing now, he was trying to fix what misfortune had set in motion. August still seemed not to be upset with him, but the guilt lay heavily on Crowley nonetheless.

The guilt over August himself was even worse. Crowley met Bee and Hastur and Ligur now with fear in his heart like he’d never felt before, and not for himself. 

If the group guessed that Crowley was fucking August, they’d probably find it hilarious, a joke on the poor jeweler. But if they knew that August was actually aware of what Crowley’s job was, of what had happened to his shop and all the others— then August would be in terrible danger. Crowley just had to hope that none of his group would guess that August would keep a secret like that, that he would have a relationship with a thief.

Crowley really should have left one of them, either the thieves or the jeweler. But Crowley’s bravery still existed only as August’s delusion.

August, on the other hand, seemed scared of nothing, having the courage to simply enjoy life as it came to him. One night they had opened a bottle of wine in the back room of the shop, but they had barely drunk any of it. Instead August was in Crowley’s lap, moaning into Crowley’s mouth as Crowley’s hands explored that perfect ass, separated from him only by the barrier of August’s trousers.

“You know, I’ve developed a bit of a fantasy about this,” August murmured against Crowley’s neck. “In the back of the shop, at night.”

“Let me guess,” Crowley said. “You all alone here, defenseless, when a thief breaks in, and you’ve only got one thing to offer him in lieu of robbing your shop?”

August stopped moving and caught Crowley’s gaze. “Is that something you’re comfortable with? Role-play?”

Crowley stilled his hands as well, with some difficulty. “I’ll give you anything you want, angel.”

August frowned good-naturedly. “I know that, dear. But I need to know what _you_ want.”

Crowley slid his hands back up to August’s waist, since he could think better with them there. “Would you be saying _no?”_ he asked.

“I don’t have to. I can be as willing as you like.”

“I like willing.”

August nodded. He pressed a slow kiss to Crowley’s cheek. “So protest for protest’s sake, but I’m eager to be convinced. _Seduced.”_ He kissed the other cheek. “And if either of us says _no,_ we stop. All right?”

Crowley returned the cheek kiss. “But you do like it rough.” He was gratified to feel a little shiver in August’s body.

“Rough would be lovely,” August confirmed, with a bit of a blush.

Crowley shifted him off of his lap, and August took a seat on his desk chair. Crowley walked over and leaned against the doorway to the back room, trying to get into character: the gentleman thief. Bold, brave. Rakish. Crowley was dressed all in black today, which fit with the scenario: tight black jeans and an expensive shirt that gaped open at the collar.

It did help that August was already looking at him with pure lust in his eyes. “Who are you?” August demanded, standing up. “How did you get in here?”

Crowley lifted a shoulder, giving August an easy grin. “Wasn’t locked. You ought to be more careful, alone here at night.”

“I locked my shop,” August insisted.

“Well, perhaps I’m just good with locks then.”

“What do you want?” August asked indignantly, although his eyes betrayed him, slipping down to Crowley’s crotch where the denim was already far too tight.

Crowley smiled, returning the pointed glance. But he said, “Jewelry, of course. It’s a jewelry shop, isn’t it?”

“We’re closed.”

Crowley pushed off the wall and sauntered a little closer. “Like I said, door was open. Besides, maybe I’m a customer. I thought shop owners liked customers.”

“Customers call during business hours.” August seemed a little disappointed when Crowley stopped a few feet away. “And they also generally pay for what they take.”

“Oh.” Crowley frowned. “I suppose they do. Guess I don’t make a great customer, then.” He glanced behind him at the shop and then back at August. “So where do you keep the most expensive stuff?”

August’s face flushed a little. “Well, ah— let’s not be too hasty. Perhaps we can talk about this.”

Crowley let his eyes travel all the way down August’s lush body and back up again. “If you want. Actually, I might be willing to negotiate for something else.”

August’s eyes widened a little. _“Oh._ You would?”

“Mmm.” Crowley noted that August’s pants were rather tented in the front now. He smiled smugly. “Looks like you would, too.”

August looked away, but then glanced back again, giving Crowley a coy once-over. “What would you want?” he asked.

Crowley took in a steadying breath. “You,” he said. “Naked. Bent over the desk. Let me put my cock up that ass and I’ll leave your jewelry alone.” 

August’s face was bright red now. “That’s not—”

“Oh, now, don’t dismiss it right away,” Crowley counseled. “You’d very much enjoy that, I think. I would make sure.” Crowley made a show of adjusting his jeans and heard August’s breathing hitch a little. The man did have a bit of a size kink, and Crowley was more than happy to play into it. Crowley smiled smugly at him.

“I was just going to say,” August said lightly, “that that’s not much of a negotiation.”

Crowley crossed his arms over his chest. “Oh, really? What do you want then, besides keeping your jewelry, which I’ve already granted you?”

August swallowed. “Well, I—” He tilted his chin up, resolute. “I want you the whole night.”

Crowley looked at him with wide eyes. “You do?”

August nodded. “I want you naked, too. I want to suck you. I want you to suck me—”

Crowley had him shoved up against a wall with his next breath. August moaned, grinding his cock against Crowley’s and Crowley hissed. He slid a hand into August’s pale curls and pulled his head back for a kiss that could definitely be described as rough. 

August went pliant in his arms, even more than usual. He was clearly being extra careful not to seem unwilling. It made Crowley’s heart thump a little painfully in his chest, that August cared so much for his comfort.

“Well, aren’t you a surprise?” Crowley murmured against August’s neck, where he was pressing kisses. “Usually if I want to _negotiate_ with a shopkeeper it takes a little more doing. But you’re desperate for it, aren’t you? I wonder, would you spread your legs for any thief who happens upon your shop or is there something special about me?”

August was busy unbuttoning Crowley’s shirt, and he spread his hands out flat over Crowley’s chest. Crowley shivered with it.

“You know what you look like,” August said. 

Crowley laughed. “Working for you, is it? Well, I have more you’ll like. A whole lot more.” He leaned back enough to get his hands on the zipper of his jeans and pulled it down, freeing his erection with a loud groan.

August’s mouth fell open.

“Oh, I like that look on you,” Crowley growled. He put a hand on August’s shoulder and pressed him down onto his knees. “Go ahead, then.”

August had given Crowley blow jobs before, of course. It was one of his favorite things to do in the bedroom, and he was maddeningly good at it. Crowley leaned his forehead against the wall, groaning as August started in, first with his hands, spreading the precome over the shaft. He followed with his tongue, licking and giving open mouth kisses, before he began to fit his mouth over the end of Crowley’s prick. The secret to what August could do was his tongue: he was quite dextrous with it from any angle, swirling it over the head, exploring the slit at the tip, or licking harshly along the vein on the underside.

“Shit,” Crowley gasped. “Fuck, shit.” His hips bucked a little and rather than pull back, August reached around to grasp Crowley’s ass through his trousers, and press him in hard against his mouth. It was a little difficult for August to take the whole of Crowley’s prick into his mouth given Crowley’s size, but he did try, and it made Crowley’s knees weak. 

“God, fuck,” Crowley groaned, as August ramped up the intensity, increasing suction while he fucked mercilessly over the head with his tongue. “Oh, god, I’m going to come,” Crowley gasped. “You’re going to make me—” Crowley threw his head back and cried out as he pumped hot come into August’s mouth and down his throat.

August moaned wantonly, sucking him through it, cleaning his cock thoroughly of every drop. 

“Fuck,” Crowley gasped. “Fuck. That was— I think that was the best head I ever had. You are just full of surprises, shopkeeper.”

‘I’d rather be full of you,” August said shamelessly, still kneeling on the floor. 

Crowley was still half-hard, which always happened after August sucked him off. An orgasm in August’s mouth was really just another incredible turn-on. “Take off your clothes,” Crowley ordered. He shed his shirt and jeans, turning to see August bent obediently over his desk, his plump ass ready for the taking.

Crowley was on him in an instant. August had set lube on the desk beside him, and Crowley smeared his fingers with it, sliding one into his entrance without fanfare. August moaned, pressing back on it. 

“I am going to fuck your brains out,” Crowley growled. “I hope you like it rough, shopkeeper.”

August moaned again, and Crowley hurriedly pushed in another finger. “You do, don’t you?” he asked. “You want to be pounded over your desk, split open on a huge cock.”

“Yes,” August gasped.

“You want to be ravished.”

“Yes!”

Crowley (gently) kicked August’s feet farther apart, to give him a better angle. August kept moaning continuously while Crowley fucked him open on his fingers. And then Crowley lined up the head of his cock with August’s entrance. “You just lie there and take it, then,” he ordered as he pushed in. “I’ll give you what you need.”

Crowley went slowly at first— August enjoyed rough, but Crowley didn’t want to cause him any serious pain, and this was a deep position as it was. This was, as it happened, Crowley’s favorite position to fuck August in, bent over flat on the furniture with his ass in the air so that Crowley could touch all he liked, and watch the ample flesh ripple as Crowley’s hips smacked into him.

“Fuck, you take me so well,” Crowley growled, as he finally bottomed out. “Oh, if I’d known there was a shopkeeper in this store with such a delicious ass, I’d have broken in years ago. Could have been fucking you all this time. You’d let me, wouldn’t you? Every night bend over for me?”

“Yes!”

“Wouldn’t even have to threaten, would I? You want this.”

“I want you. Please, Crowley, move,” August begged, clearly forgetting he wasn’t supposed to know Crowley’s name. Crowley loved hearing it, though.

Crowley pulled out a little, very gently, and slid back in, watching and listening for signs of pain from August. There were none, and he began to speed up his movements. As he began to hit his usual pace, August gave a wanton cry of pleasure, which inflamed Crowley to the point where he finally started to be rough. 

The desk jolted and squeaked under them and Crowley moaned as his body impacted the soft rolls of August beneath him. “Do you want me to get you off like this?” Crowley asked. 

“Please,” August cried, and Crowley slid his hand around to find August’s straining cock hanging heavy beneath his hips. He wrapped his fingers around it and pumped in time with his thrusts. 

August wailed. “Oh, Crowley, don’t stop. I’m so— God, yes. Like that—” And then his cock was spurting over Crowley’s hand, and Crowley growled, thrusting frantically into August’s tight ass until his orgasm overtook him as well. 

“Fuck,” Crowley gasped, collapsing over August’s body. “Fuck, that was hot.” He moved back a little and pulled out, helping August into a more comfortable position, leaning against Crowley.

August sighed with pleasure. “Oh, I’m so glad I have you for the whole night.” He looked up to meet Crowley’s eyes. “I’d keep you longer than that if I could.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Crowley’s quite good at the gentleman thief role, despite what he believes!
> 
> [Black Hills gold jewelry](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Black_Hills_gold_jewelry) and [examples](https://www.google.com/search?q=black+hills+gold&sxsrf=ALeKk026jId5mY7EgLhl0DPq_6B0S5HF7g:1605195170853&tbm=isch&source=iu&ictx=1&fir=nZkasw3Chk8NpM%252CJbTWBl53B_OrNM%252C_&vet=1&usg=AI4_-kR98hwkK0OMbHcUvbn9T3DyxD7o2A&sa=X&ved=2ahUKEwjPptD_qf3sAhWWPM0KHakLBOAQ9QF6BAgFEHA&biw=1344&bih=658)


	4. Chapter 4

**4**

**In which the thief disappears**

The next morning, August lay awake in bed, watching Crowley sleep with his head on August’s shoulder. He was as beautiful in the morning sun as he had been in the lamplight of the shop the night before. Beautiful but also fragile in a way that August had started to glimpse over the past few months. Last night Crowley had role-played the gentleman thief, and he’d been wonderful at it. But it had never been more clear to August that for Crowley, it was all pretend.

When Crowley woke, he smiled, but then it faded as he saw August’s expression. “What is it?” he asked.

August sighed. “My dear— I know you don’t like this.”

Crowley froze. “No, I—”

“Oh, I don’t mean _this,”_ August said hastily. “I know you like _this,_ with me. And the sex and everything else we do.” He ran a slow, gentle hand over Crowley’s shoulder. “But you don’t like being a thief, do you?”

Crowley rested his head back against the headboard. “I used to.”

“But now you feel bad about it. About my shop and all the others. And I know you're worried about my safety.”

Crowley ran a hand through his morning-messy hair. “I didn’t mean to be a thief, really. I just sort of sauntered my way into it, and now I can’t find my way back out.” He looked at August warily. “But you like it.”

August closed his eyes for a second. “Oh, I’ve messed this up.” Crowley started to protest, but August put a hand gently over his mouth. “No, I have,” he insisted. “Very much so.” He sighed and took his fingers away. “Do you know that I don’t want to own a jewelry shop?”

Crowley stared at him. “What?”

“I like to make jewelry. But standing on my feet all day, interacting with customers— honestly, that sort of thing can be done online with far less effort.” He gave Crowley a hesitant look, trying to find courage within him. “I was just thinking— we could go off together.”

Crowley was silent for a while, and August didn’t rush him into an answer, although his heart ached worse with every passing second. 

“Go off together?” Crowley said at last. “Endings like that aren’t for people like me.”

“Well, who says what kind of person you are?” August asked. “It shouldn’t be your co-workers. Or the police. Or even me. Only you.”

“But—” Crowley wrapped his hand around August’s, lacing their fingers together. “But what if I decide I’m not a brave, charming thief? Will you still want me then?”

"You have definitely charmed me, darling,” August said fondly. “But I want you just as you are. I want you the way you want to be. And I think you have the courage it will take to reinvent yourself.”

Crowley watched him a moment, and his expression ran from hesitance all the way into hope. Crowley leaned in and kissed him, a brief, loving thing. “But I still can’t just disappear,” he said. “They’ll track me down. I’m a liability.”

August nodded, unwilling to even give words to such a possibility. He gathered Crowley back into his arms and they lay there for a while with the morning sun slanting across the bed. 

“You know,” August said, “there’s a lot they don’t know about us. Your side, I mean. My side too. You’re a thief, I’m a shopkeeper— but they don’t have any idea how terrible we really are at those jobs. I had far too much fun robbing Gabriel, and despite your being very talented at what you do, you want out of the game.” He ran a gentle hand over Crowley’s shoulder. “So maybe that’s what we do. We play into what they think of us, what they expect. I mean, what would a good thief do if he managed to get close to a shopkeeper?”

Crowley had a growing smile on his face. “Oh, I see. And I wonder what a good shopkeeper would do in return?”

oOo

The final night of Crowley’s life was clear and hot. The warehouse district was strange and dirty and gave off funny echoes to everything. With the dry, baking wind slanting in between the buildings, August was so warm that he wanted to remove his jacket. But he didn’t want to risk leaving it behind at the scene. Also, he didn’t want to get blood on it. 

(Well, corn syrup and red food coloring, anyway.)

“I trusted you,” he said loudly, looking down at the body lying at his feet. Crowley wasn’t moving, at least not much. A “bloody” knife lay on the ground but too far out of reach for him. 

“I can’t believe I trusted you,” August lamented. “And I thought you loved me, but no— all a lie. You only ever wanted what I had. Never wanted _me.”_

August looked up at the warehouses surrounding them, but he couldn’t see much in the dark. He wasn’t sure he was being observed, but he hoped desperately. He also hoped his acting was up to snuff. Role plays with Crowley were fun, but this— this was frighteningly real. It had been such a daring plan, and he’d felt so brave about it, right up until it had actually started.

August turned his head at the sound of a car approaching. His heart seized, worried that it was all over, that someone had called the police— but he sighed with relief on seeing who was driving.

Michael, August’s dear old friend, climbed out of the car in a rush. “August? What the hell, are you okay? You sounded freaked out on the phone. What’s—” Michael stopped short as they came around the car and discovered what was lying on the ground. “What the fuck happened?” they gasped.

August tried for some sort of natural tone. “Well, he— he wasn’t what I thought he was. He cleared out my safe and took off. Didn’t take the Bentley, used an Uber, and I followed him. I suppose he was meeting someone here.”

Michael groaned. “Meeting someone? Then there might be witnesses, August. God! You have no idea what you’re doing!”

“Well, I’ve never killed anyone before!” August exclaimed. “It’s not my fault! It’s not like they teach that in school.”

“Well, who the hell was he meeting?”

“I don’t know.” August frowned, looking around. “I was hoping it was his gang.”

(It was: Crowley had arranged to meet them at this exact place and time.)

“Why?” Michael’s tone was wary. 

“So I can kill them too.” August opened his coat and showed the inside pocket to Michael. 

“You brought a gun?” Michael hissed.

(It was quite obviously a water gun if you got a good look at it, but it was dark and all August really needed was the shape of it in his coat.)

“It’s backup!” August protested. “I used the knife on him—” He looked down at Crowley again. “He isn’t moving anymore. Is he—”

Michael came nearer to the body and knelt down. They extended a nervous hand and laid it on Crowley’s neck. “He’s dead,” they said.

(Crowley was clearly still breathing, but again, it was dark, and hopefully no one farther away would be able to tell.)

August made a little noise that he hoped might sound like fear or relief or both. “Now what?” he asked. “You’re the lawyer, what do I do?”

“I’m not that kind of lawyer!” Michael exclaimed. “Besides, they don’t teach this sort of thing to lawyers either!”

“Well, maybe I can claim self-defense.”

“Was it self-defense?”

August frowned. “Um— not technically.”

Michael sighed. “So you’re a wronged lover who followed a man who stole from you and then stabbed him to death. With potential witnesses. Did you argue? Make a scene?”

“We did. I said— I said some terrible things.”

(They’d hoped the shouting would draw the gang’s attention. August had worried that the gang might come to Crowley’s defense— but Crowley had been sure they would not. And they had not. As inappropriate as it was, it made August’s heart ache for him.)

“Well, I think the stabbing part is a little more important here.” Michael groaned. “Look, the best I can do is to say hide the body and get out of here. Out of the country if possible. And don’t come back.”

August nodded. “All right. Well— into the trunk with him, then, I think.”

The two of them managed to pick Crowley up and load him into the trunk of August’s car. 

“Could stage an accident in his car,” Michael suggested.

August shook his head. “No, I don’t think so. I don’t want to harm the Bentley. It’s a nice car when one doesn’t drive it too fast.”

(Crowley, who was out of sight now to everyone but August and Michael, gave August a grateful look. August shut the lid on him before he could smile back.)

“I’ll take the car with me,” he said. “And I’ll go overseas.”

“And give up on killing the rest of his gang,” Michael counseled. 

“But what if they saw me?”

“Then if they’re smart they’ll stay away from you. Fuck, August, I didn’t know you had it in you.” 

(Michael sounded a mix of horrified and impressed, which was exactly how they had sounded when August and Crowley had explained this plan to them in the first place.)

“He had my pocket watch,” August said sadly. “Said he found it somewhere after the burglary. I was so relieved. But he just used it to gain my confidence. He was only waiting until he could take everything from me.”

“I’m sorry,” Michael said. They gave August a quick hug. “Call me when you get wherever you’re going. And don’t ever tell me where you put the body.”

August climbed into the front seat of his car and pulled away from the warehouse.

oOo

**One year later**

The front door of the cottage had a pane of stained glass within it, and when it caught the afternoon sun the whole place danced with color. August had made the window himself. He did sell mostly online, but his stained glass and jewelry were popular enough in the small town where they’d settled that August also sold them in person at the summer fairs. 

August wasn’t working on jewelry at the moment, though. Instead, the former shop owner was carding his hands through the lovely red hair of a former thief as he lay with his head on August’s lap. It had been a year since they’d staged Crowley’s disappearance. A year of living quietly on the coast of England, just August and Anthony, as he was called now. The happiest year August had ever spent. The first year of the rest of their lives.

They’d heard and seen nothing from Crowley’s gang. Apparently they either believed Crowley to be dead and August to be dangerous, or just that they weren’t worth the trouble of tracking down.

It was in the airport in New York that August had realized he’d never told Crowley he loved him. They’d been friends first and lovers soon after, and then August had ostensibly killed the poor man in a case of romantic revenge, but he’d never actually confessed how he felt.

August waited until the first night in a hotel outside of London to say _I love you, Anthony._ Anthony had proposed on the first night in their cottage. _August, will you marry me?_

Obviously, August had said yes, which was why they were wearing new rings now, rings August had crafted just for them. 

As they lay on the couch, Crowley turned his head and pressed a kiss to the inside of August’s wrist, slow and purposeful. August felt a flame of desire inside of him at the familiar touch, given in this manner.

August liked things rough, and Crowley was ever willing to serve. But Crowley, August had learned, liked to take his time. He liked to be thorough with his love making, as if August were something not only to covet, but to savor and treasure.

Crowley’s mouth moved from August’s wrist up his arm, and then he looped an arm up over August’s neck and pulled him down into a kiss. This was, perhaps, what Crowley was best at, the kissing. He had other talents, surely. But Crowley always kissed like he and August were in a movie, standing in the rain, holding up traffic. It was a kind of abiding, patient romance that made August quite dizzy.

Crowley slowly turned and climbed over August, pressing him down into the couch, kissing him all the while, with a hand on August’s cheek to hold him in just the right place. August slid his fingers back into Crowley’s hair, and parted his legs around Crowley’s slender hips, but he knew Crowley would be in no rush to take that invitation. And so they spent a while there, in the stained-glass light, sharing breath and touch as if they might do nothing else for eternity.

Eventually, though, August became so hard that he ached and he lifted his hips beneath Crowley’s in silent plea. For answer he got a groan into his mouth and a press back of something equally hard. August pulled at Crowley’s shirt until he sat up a bit to pull it off. August ran reverent hands over the smooth muscles of his chest, making Crowley shiver. Crowley quickly rid August of his shirt as well, but after that, the kissing resumed, perhaps more intense now, but still just as slow.

August lost track of time for a while, but eventually the rest of their clothes disappeared, piece by piece, and Crowley kissed his way down August’s body to his hips. August was then treated to an unhurried but ravenous blow job, wet and messy, quite indulgent to both of them. He tangled his fingers in Crowley’s hair, not to pull or rush him, but to feel him there, to track the movement of his head as he moved up and down. 

Crowley sucked filthy groans out of August, pausing at one point to slick his fingers with his own saliva and August’s precome and then slide them up inside of August. August could tell Crowley was pushing himself to the breaking point by the way his hips rutted against the couch, and the way he’d begun moaning around August’s cock. He seemed just as desperate to come as August was, and yet still he didn’t hurry. Crowley gave August his full attention until he was at last satisfied that he’d serviced August thoroughly enough, and then he twisted his fingers hard against August’s prostate. August shot off in his mouth with an orgasmic moan, and Crowley swallowed him down. 

When Crowley finally pulled off, August clutched at him, pulling him up and over his body. He could tell Crowley was close. He was trembling, his breathing hitching.

“Come inside me,” August urged. “Do it inside me.” 

Crowley pushed August’s legs apart and pressed in. Crowley had worked August open, but he really was quite deliciously large, and there was still a bit of stretch and burn as he worked his way inside. August clutched at his ass, urging him deeper, folding his own legs up and out of the way. 

Crowley still didn’t take him frantically— he kept some control, rolling his hips against August’s ass in an attempt at a steady rhythm. August reached up and pulled Crowley’s mouth against his, and that was how Crowley came, kissing August, tasting him, while he moved deep inside his body and shuddered out his orgasm.

One of the best things about Crowley’s method was that if they kept kissing afterwards, slow, thorough, and patient, Crowley would get hard again, and August’s body was always very responsive to that. So Crowley didn’t pull out. He stayed joined with August until August could feel him swelling inside him. August was used to Crowley’s size, but it still always felt like a revelation, to be that full, to feel himself take everything Crowley had.

They turned on the couch and August rode him, gently, slowly, sliding his way up and down Crowley’s cock, watching as Crowley groaned with the pleasure of it, his thighs trembling, his fingers clutching at August’s hips. Trusting August to keep slow, Crowley could let go like this, and words tumbled out of his mouth— _I love you, I want you, I need you_ were standards, as well as August’s name and various gasped curses. August drank it all in, riding Crowley to the brink of orgasm before fisting his own swollen cock so that they climaxed together. 

August had never quite timed this, but he knew that Crowley’s love-making took hours, and afterwards the glow of multiple orgasms and the exhaustion of constant movement usually meant that they spent the rest of the evening dozing in each other’s arms. Eventually one of them would get up to fetch food, and then they’d doze again after they ate it. Sometimes they watched a movie, and sometimes there were lazy handjobs during the movie, and there was always, always more kissing. 

Over the past year, August had tried valiantly to avoid the thief-who-stole-my-heart jokes, but they crept in now and then. Crowley tolerated them with good humor. As it turned out, he was naturally a very charming man.

And as for the pocket watch, it ticked along quietly, measuring the minutes, hours, days, and years of two lives that were full of things not stolen, but freely given.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Comments and kudos are so appreciated! And please feel free to check out my other works. I write Good Omens and original fiction.  
>   
> If you liked this Good Omens human AU, here are my others:  
> [Angel](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22088422) (nurse Aziraphale, florist Crowley)  
> [The Poet's Eye](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24458608) (poet Aziraphale, firefighter Crowley)  
> [A Greenwood Tree](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26617891) (Ineffable wives Robin Hood AU with Aziraphale as Marian and Crowley as Robin)  
> [The Wrong Side of the Door](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27048544) (a spooky AU with Aziraphale and Crowley as paranormal investigators)  
> and [Warmth](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28988571) (librarian Aziraphale, criminal Crowley)  
> And on my Tumblr, you can find [giant lists of other writers' completed Good Omens human AUs](https://holycatsandrabbits.tumblr.com/search/Dannye's%20GO%20Human%20AU%20rec%20lists)
> 
> Find me at [DannyeChase.com](http://dannyechase.com/)  
> and on my [Linktree](https://linktr.ee/DannyeChase)  
> 


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